Now amidst the ruins
of a civilized concern
we must look to ourselves
for the strength
to go on.

The terrorist's hand
has nudged the sleeping giant.
We observe with fearful eyes
what man has wrought
upon man
and wonder why we were blind.
Stealth crept into our peaceful lives
and tended to terrorism;
then stealth snickered like a coward
and ran away.

Now we cry of our innocence,
standing shoulder to shoulder,
choking on the dust.
We are told to trust
where trust has trespassed.
We are told to be strong
while televised figures struggle
to reach survivors,
where bodies lie within a concrete tomb,
folded in death's final repose.

The days become nights -
the nights become weeks.
How can we endure this pain
without tears?
It is our plight as observers
to mourn our dead.
Why else have we been so spared
amidst the ruins?

* * *

( lest we shall forget )